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<title>The Fuel That Will Hold The Flame by TheSouthernFalconer</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120191">The Fuel That Will Hold The Flame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSouthernFalconer/pseuds/TheSouthernFalconer'>TheSouthernFalconer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Foot Massage, Healthy Relationships, Intimacy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pet Names, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:40:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,012</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSouthernFalconer/pseuds/TheSouthernFalconer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Muriel did not comment on it, only softly stroked up the arch of her feet on the pretext of massaging there, and said, “You need more rest…I’ll help you get some,” in a voice so tender that there was no mistaking what was left unsaid. You don’t need to work so hard. Please be more patient with yourself. You’ve done enough. I love you."</p><p>Nothing but some good old fashioned TLC.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Fuel That Will Hold The Flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“…You need a foot rub.”</p><p>Kadambari would have missed it if it weren’t so quiet in the hut. Inanna was napping by the fire, and the chickens were all warm and cozied up, taking shelter from the rain outside. She herself had been lounging about, cocooned in furs and flicking through a fascinating book on Prakran footwork techniques, taking occasional notes in her little leatherbound notepad, listening to the sound of Muriel whittling away a charm he wanted to hand over to Asra before he left on his next trip. He’d taken to asking Kadambari to charm them right along with him these days- she knew it was much less than that he needed the help, but more so that she’d feel more at ease with her magic- it was still so new to her, and she was much too shy to use it out and about. He was observant like that, doing the kindest things without ever drawing attention to it. She sighed, wondering, yet again, at her own sheer luck in finding him.</p><p>“Kaathu.”</p><p>She was startled out of her thoughts by Muriel shuffling over to sit in front of her. “What is it, dear heart?”</p><p>Kadambari covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle at how red he <em>still </em>turned when she threw in a pet name, or several. She never thought she’d ever find someone who could get so flustered by <em>her</em>, rather than the other way around- that Kadambari “I-blush-when-someone halfway-attractive-deigns-to-smile-at-me” Naayagi would somehow manage to be <em>smooth.</em> And he made it so, so very easy. The pet names practically slipped off her tongue- <em>dearest, beloved, darling, precious, starlight</em>- how could they not, when someone so lovely, so utterly deserving of every last one of them, stood before her, beside her, <em>loving </em>her?  Muriel cleared his throat, collecting himself after a few moments of blushing furiously. “You need a foot rub. You’ve been wincing.”</p><p>“Oh?” She frowned, flexing her toes and rotating her feet. Ouch. He was right. Daily stretches or not, she tended to keep forgetting the toll that days of rigorous practice would take on her limbs. She’d been so used to that dull ache and tightness that she’d barely noticed it herself. Trust Muriel to pick up on the cues that she’d been missing. She smiled gratefully at him, putting her book aside and sinking back into the furs. “ Do you mind, dearest?” She raised a thick eyebrow, and he shook his head, green eyes seeking hers in a wary glance, grumbling, “…why would I offer if I did.” She laughed, conceding, as he took her calloused, aching feet in gentle hands. Muriel pressed gently, rubbing at the sore, tight spots on her heels, working his way up to her ankles, each of her toes, and then back again to her heels. Kadambari sighed in relief as the tension she didn’t know she’d been carrying fell away like rainwater under the touch of his hands. She felt her muscles relax and melt, her whole body sinking with it. Perhaps she’d been working too hard. Her dancing was still a work in progress- and try as she might to embrace her art in its incompleteness as she usually does, she could not shake off the feelings of inadequacy that crept in regardless. Was she giving it its due? Was she sincere enough? Would she ever be good enough?</p><p>  Judging by the knowing look in Muriel’s eyes, she decided he’d caught on to her tendency to overcompensate, to push herself just that little bit too far so she could feel more at ease.</p><p>He did not comment on it, only softly stroked up the arch of her feet on the pretext of massaging there, and said, “You need more rest…I’ll help you get some,” in a voice so tender that there was no mistaking what was left unsaid. <em>You don’t need to work so hard. Please be more patient with yourself. You’ve done enough. I love you. </em></p><p>Tears prickled briefly behind her eyelids, and they vanished. Muriel’s hands moved up to knead and press at her calves, so warm and welcome that she nearly <em>did </em>cry in relief, then and there. It wasn’t a teacher’s touch, strong and correcting, and it wasn’t a colleague’s favour, quick and efficient. It was love, tender and kind and beautiful, and it was him, firm and gentle and understanding- and it went past her relaxing muscles to her heart and her soul like the first rays of a bright red dawn warming the earth, and now that she knows it, she’s so eager, so devastatingly eager- to have it, to keep it and tend to it and protect it and bask in it.</p><p>
  <em>This isn’t for the dancer in you, Kaathu. This is for you.</em>
</p><p>When both her legs were unwound, liquid-supple, and relaxed, Muriel smiled up at her, green eyes shining beneath his dark lashes, a little proud of himself. “You’re magic, darling,” she yawned, feeling fuzzy all over, her book long-forgotten. He chuckled, low in his throat, and then an idea struck her impishly. Kadambari snuggled back into the furs, mischief in her black eyes. “Now that you’re <em>here, </em>Muri..” she trailed off, watching him narrow his eyes, “why don’t you braid my hair, too?”</p><p>Muriel snorted, shaking his head and obliging anyway, coming over to sit behind her, letting her lean back against his chest, humming in satisfaction. “…Spoilt,” he teased, running deft fingers through her thick, ink-black hair. He caught the way her cheeks warmed against his skin, though she quipped back, “Your fault, entirely,” she turned her head to lean up and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Keep it up and I’ll ask you to carry me back to bed.”</p><p>A moment of silence, a fond little laugh rumbling through his chest, never quite making it to his voice. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he mumbled, a flush spreading down his neck, his eyes fluttering shyly away from her- “if I could do it again for you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from "Hearts Don't Break Around Here," by Ed Sheeran.</p><p>In this house we love, cherish, respect and protect one (1) shy mountain man.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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